


safe and sound

by andnowforyaya



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alcohol, Band Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yongguk moves out. The fall-out is larger than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe and sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [golden_kimono](https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_kimono/gifts).



When Yongguk moves out, Daehyun doesn’t take it well. Himchan is reminded of that time all those years ago on the roof. He and the tiny powerhouse singer and all the words left unspoken between them; Daehyun’s face wet from tears and Himchan’s awkward attempts at comfort.

He’s gotten better since then. At the tears and at the comfort and at Daehyun.

.

“Hyung.”

The mattress dips and creaks. Himchan rolls over towards the added weight and squints through sleep-heavy eyes at Daehyun wearing pajamas -- a shirt that hangs from his shoulders and ends just past the length of his boxers. Daehyun’s hair, recently bleached almost white-blonde, is crackling like he's been shocked. He sits on the edge.

“What is it?” Himchan mumbles. Daehyun has been wandering at night from his room he shares with Junhong a lot recently and into different beds. “What's up?”

“I made breakfast.”

Daehyun and his early morning habits.

“It's too early, Daehyunnie. Leave it for when the kids wake up.”

Daehyun’s eyebrows furrow closer together. “I'm not one of the kids anymore?”

Himchan sighs. The room is lit with silvery, thin light and it washes Daehyun out, all muted colors. He reaches for Daehyun and the other boy folds against him immediately, his knees and his elbows tucking into the curve of Himchan’s belly as he lays down on the bed also. “Appears so,” Himchan says, holding Daehyun loose around the waist. He could wriggle out if he wanted to.

He doesn’t. Daehyun stays, his face close, eyes impossibly bright and staring at Himchan’s mouth. “We grow up so fast,” Daehyun whispers, and kisses him.

.

Himchan and Youngjae and Daehyun are crowded on Youngjae’s bed in the only air conditioned room in the dorm, leaning against pillows against the wall and watching a drama on the small screen of Youngjae’s laptop.

Sweat still rolls down Himchan’s temples. They’d gone for iced coffees just moments before, and the heat clings to him like a second skin, like the condensation on the plastic cups of the iced coffees. He is sandwiched between the two younger boys, Youngjae on one side and Daehyun on the other, shoulder touching shoulder touching shoulder. About twenty minutes into the drama, Himchan notices the way Daehyun has been rubbing the tattoo on his wrist with his thumb, soft and insistent, rubbing it raw.

 _HOLD_ , it reads, so Himchan takes his wrist and holds it, brings it into his lap and laces his fingers with Daehyun’s, fully aware of how Daehyun is looking up at him from under his lashes, lips slightly parted. Surprised.

“You’re gonna rub it right off,” Himchan admonishes gently.

Daehyun ducks his gaze, a light blush dusting his cheeks. He leans his head on Himchan’s shoulder.

On Himchan’s other side, Youngjae does the same.

.

“Hyung.”

Youngjae’s whisper jolts him out of the state between sleep and consciousness, and Himchan feels his legs jump on the bed. Youngjae chuckles when he makes an aggrieved noise. “You fell asleep,” Youngjae says helpfully.

He did. He has a crick in his neck from it, from staying so still under Daehyun’s weight against his chest and side. There’s a wet spot on Himchan’s shirt from Daehyun’s drool, Daehyun’s electric shock of hair tickling his neck.

“Was it good?” Himchan asks.

“You didn’t even make it through one episode,” Youngjae says. “It wasn’t that good.”

Carefully, Himchan tries to crane his neck the other way to stretch the cramped muscles, and Daehyun shifts unconsciously to his lap, hair splayed out over Himchan’s thighs.

“He came into my room the other night,” Youngjae confesses. “I don’t think he’s been sleeping well.”

“He hasn’t.”

“Because Yongguk’s gone?”

“He’s not gone, Youngjae,” Himchan says quickly, though the words stab at something in his chest. He’s not gone, but why does it feel like something close to the truth?

“I didn’t mean really,” Youngjae says apologetically, pouting and leaning up against Himchan again. He has his laptop in his lap as he surfs fanpages randomly, pulling up pictures he thinks are flattering and especially those he thinks are not. He points these out for a while and they share a laugh over them, these human sides to them. When there are no more to laugh over, Youngjae says, “I miss him, too. I mean, he was always at the studio anyways, but we always knew he was coming home. Now? Not so much.”

Himchan lets the words turn over and over in his mind. Youngjae hooks his chin with a finger and kisses the words right out of him again.

.

Sometimes Daehyun wakes up and wants to have sex. He’ll climb into Himchan’s bed and roll him onto his back and kiss him conscious. Himchan likes Daehyun’s insistence, his gentle morning sounds.

Daehyun wakes him now with a kiss, whispers nothings against his lips until Himchan is stirring in his briefs. Daehyun sucks at his neck and kisses down the column of his throat and pulls at the collar of Himchan’s shirt with his slim fingers to get at a nipple, wetting it with his tongue. Ruins the collar of Himchan’s shirt.

“What time is it?” Himchan manages to mumble as Daehyun’s hands wander lower and lower until he’s reached under the elastic of Himchan’s briefs and gripped him with a dry, hot hand. Himchan sucks in a breath and rolls his hips.

Daehyun says, “Early.”

They fuck with Daehyun on top, riding Himchan in languid movements, wet and perfect. When Daehyun leans over to kiss Himchan on the mouth, Himchan slips out of him and Daehyun groans with the loss. “Put it back in,” Daehyun hisses, so Himchan does.

Himchan’s hands grip Daehyun’s hips hard, fingers digging into the tops of his thighs, as Daehyun’s moans climb in crescendo, as Himchan quickens his pace, urging them both faster. When they climax, it is together and complete, the pleasure rolling over Himchan in waves as Daehyun tightens beautifully around him. They stay like that when they’re done, and Daehyun folds over to lay on top of Himchan’s chest.

After a few moments, Himchan realizes Daehyun is hiccuping, and that his shirt is damp, and then finally that Daehyun is crying.

“Oh, baby,” Himchan says, arms coming to wrap around Daehyun’s waist and squeezing once before rolling them both over. He cleans them up as best as he can, quickly, and comes back to bed with open arms. “What’s wrong? Did I do something? Did something happen?”

The other boy curls against his chest, clutches at Himchan’s shirt before winding his arms around Himchan’s neck, crying quietly there against the mark he’d left on Himchan’s throat. “Sorry -- I didn’t mean to cry.”

His heart tightens, and Himchan holds him closer. “It’s okay to cry,” Himchan says. He brings the covers up over them, swaddles Daehyun up like a newborn. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

“It’s stupid,” Daehyun sniffles against him.

“I’ll judge that.” He runs his hand up and down Daehyun’s back, then draws light circles over his spine, knowing Daehyun draws comfort from the touch and repetitive motion.

“It just feels like -- like things are going to fall apart again.”

This freezes Himchan, and Daehyun protests by pressing closer against him. “What do you mean, Daehyunnie?”

“ _I told you it was stupid._ I just -- with Yongguk-hyung gone, it feels like right before our hiatus again. I know we’re back and we’re together and we’re strong but I can’t help but feel -- it’s just how I feel,” he explains slowly and obstinately.

“We aren’t going to fall apart,” Himchan says, just as obstinate. He kisses the top of Daehyun’s head and then his cheeks when Daehyun finally looks up at him. His cheeks and his runny nose and his lips. Himchan loves him.

Oh, how he loves him.

Himchan says, “We’re a family.” He looks to the empty space beside him on his bed, where Yongguk’s pillow still remains.

.

Yongguk is already there when Himchan arrives, at the bar, carefully nursing a whiskey with a single ice cube in his glass as a live band plays slow, smoky jazz on stage. He’s chosen the bend of the bar in shadow. Discrete.

“How long you been here?”

“Second drink,” Yongguk says, tipping his glass towards Himchan, to which Himchan wrinkles his nose. He hates the strong, burnt smell of whiskey. He orders a glass of red wine from the bartender.

“I told you 8:30,” Himchan says.

“And I wanted a drink,” Yongguk responds, smirking at him, the corners of his lips and eyes curling up lazily. “I’ve been at the studio all day,” the older man explains. “Needed a break.”

Himchan tsks at him, his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as the bartender returns with his generous glass of wine. They toast: to friends, to family, to making through whatever hardship is waiting for them together.

“How are the kids?” Yongguk asks, halfway through his second drink. His glass is on the bar, between the fingers of both hands, and he slides the glass back and forth over the slick surface of polished wood, like he’s dribbling a hockey puck.

“We’ve got to stop calling them kids,” Himchan says, laughing.

At this, Yongguk grins. “You know what I mean.”

“They’re okay,” Himchan says. “But they could be better. You could see for yourself.” There’s no dancing around words with Yongguk. Either things are direct or they are lost in cerebral metaphor, and Himchan has no time for the latter. “They miss you.”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” Yongguk retorts, though his shoulders slump and his lips lose that flirty curl. “I’m not -- _gone_.”

“They know,” Himchan says encouragingly. His wine is finished, and he signals the bartender for another round of both of their drinks. “It’s just hard when you’re not there. You’re -- distant. You always have been. It’s not that this is a bad thing!” Himchan adds hastily when Yongguk sits up straighter, protests ready on his tongue. Assuaged, Yongguk slumps again. “They’ve just always known you’d come back home, before. Now, it’s like something is missing. Like, you know how dogs will wait by the door for their owners to come home? They’re all like that right now, just waiting by the door for you.”

Yongguk purses his lips and wrinkles his brow in thought, and Himchan sighs, thinking about what Youngjae told him, and Daehyun crying in his hold.

“Not _literally_ waiting by the door,” he says with some degree of exasperation. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have moved out. But maybe visit every once in a while.”

Yongguk downs the rest of his drink in a series of long pulls, the column of his throat working. Himchan winces at how much it must burn. When Yongguk places the glass down again, the ice is no larger than a board-game die. He rests his chin on his palm, holding himself up and glancing Himchan’s way, eyes far away.

“I mean to. I will. I miss them, too,” Yongguk says dreamily.

.

Yongguk comes home with them after a long day recording at the studio. He brings a duffel full of clothes and presents, and when they are sitting around the living room eating delivery fried chicken and drinking beer from chilled cans, he brings out his bag of presents to the curious and searching stares of the other members.

“What’s this?” Himchan asks first, cleaning chicken from his fingers. He’d told Yongguk to make an effort but realizes now he should have been specific.

“Ah,” Yongguk says, sitting on the living room floor cross-legged. “Presents. I thought -- since you were all doing such a good job...”

“But you bought these before we were recording,” Junhong points out. “You didn’t know we were going to do a good job.”

“He predicted,” Jongup says.

“You didn’t want to come empty-handed,” Youngjae finishes, letting the silence confirm this truth. “You didn’t have to bring presents, hyung,” Youngjae says. “ _Mi casa es su casa._ That’s Spanish for--”

“I know what it’s Spanish for, Youngjae,” Yongguk interrupts, holding the bag of presents awkwardly in his lap, flushing. Himchan smiles, and the others follow suit. Daehyun is quiet next to him, picking under his fingernails. Yongguk says, “Okay, now I feel silly.”

“But I want my present,” Junhong says. “Since you brought it all the way here and all.” When he grins, it’s with his whole face. “I feel like you’re the ex-husband on visitation right now.”

Daehyun says suddenly, “No, he’s not!” and when everyone turns to him in surprise, he covers his face before standing and bolting from the room.

A door slams in the dorm. Himchan stands, too; it’s his door. “You hand out your presents, Bbang,” he says, that gentle smile still on his face, when Yongguk looks to him in alarm and worry. “I’ll check on him.”

.

Himchan finds Daehyun in a tight ball in the middle of his bed, arms crossed over his belly defensively, his face tight and frowning. He goes over, curls up behind him, and tries to soothe the tension out of his body. “You upset?”

“He only visited because you made him,” Daehyun says. “It’s true -- it’s just like you’re divorced and he doesn’t really want to be here and you’re nagging him to be here and _you’re laughing at me right now oh my god--_ ”

Himchan smothers him in a hug as Daehyun reluctantly turns to bury his face in Himchan’s chest, to breathe in the comforting smell of his hyung through his shirt.

“I’m not -- okay, I’m laughing,” Himchan admits. “But it’s because this is so -- you’re adorable, okay? Yongguk and I aren’t _divorced_. We’re not -- okay. That’s not the point. The point is that he’s here because he wants to be here. I might have talked some sense into him but this is Yongguk we’re talking about.” Himchan squeezes Daehyun until Daehyun starts to protest weakly, squirming out of his hold but remaining close.

“I don’t like it when people leave,” Daehyun says, as though this explains everything, and maybe it does.

Himchan’s breath catches in his throat, and he nods. “I don’t like it either,” he says.

A knocks comes at the door, soft but certain, and Himchan says, “Come in.”

The door opens with a groan. Yongguk stands in the door frame, sheepish, his cheeks still flushed, a teddy bear in his hands. “Um,” he starts, when Daehyun glares at him, stubborn. “This is your present,” he says, looking at the present and not at Daehyun as he steps inside. “I named him Cookie. So. When I’m not here, you have Cookie with you.” He clears his throat and sits on the edge of the bed, holding the bear out to Daehyun, who takes it. “Cookie is me,” Yongguk explains helpfully.

“I had no idea,” Daehyun says, never one to let grudges go easily. Still, the bear is in his arms, and Himchan is curled up behind him. "I'm not _five_ ," he says, holding the bear tighter.

“I’m sorry,” Yongguk says. “I missed you guys so much, but I didn’t think -- I wanted me moving out to be good for all of us. We’re growing, you know. We’re all growing up.”

“Doesn’t mean you should abandon us,” Daehyun says petulantly.

“I wasn’t going to abandon you.”

Daehyun shifts back against Himchan and takes a deep breath, and all the fight leaves him. “I know. I’m sorry; I know.”

“I miss you,” Yongguk repeats, laying on the bed across from them. “I missed you both. I missed this.”

“You can stay the night,” Daehyun whispers, grinning when Himchan kisses his neck from behind. “You can stay here with us.”

Yongguk does, closing the distance between them.

.

“Hyung.”

The mattress dips and creaks. Himchan rolls over towards the added weight and rolls right into Yongguk’s bare shoulder. The covers are tangled around their legs, the overhead fan swirling above them. He squints through sleep-heavy eyes at Daehyun wearing pajamas.

“What is it?” Himchan mumbles, reaching over to the nightstand to pull up his phone and peer at the screen. “What time is it?”

“Half-past seven,” Daehyun says. “I made breakfast.”

“Should we eat before the kids wake up?” Himchan proposes conspiratorially. Daehyun’s eyes glitter in the early morning light. The younger boy bounds over to wake Yongguk up, who rises with a snort.

“Good morning, hyungs,” Daehyun says, and kisses them both.

. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated <3


End file.
